Unseen
by Lizz140
Summary: deleted scene from Sanctuary where Angel and Wesley argue over Faith


Unseen   
Liz Harris   
Pairing: W/A   
Rating: PG-13   
Disclaimer: Not mine, quit asking   
Feedback: sure, anything to help   
Summary: deleted scene from Sanctuary where Angel and Wesley argue over Faith (in this version Wes and Angel are lovers)   
Notes: This was going to be a bigger thing but I don't think I want that so I'll just leave it as a   
'what-you-never-saw' type of thing.   
Dedication: To the BTS for their wonderful flames- it gave me the courage to post more of my fic :-P   
Improv 11: (wax), (vice), (shelter), (alert)  
  
  
******   
Angel shut the door to his room, giving a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god was eavesdropping that Faith was going to sleep. He walked over to the elevator and stepped inside. The couch would not be comfortable but it was a small price to pay for Faith's trust.  
  
The elevator jerked to a stop in front of him and Angel snapped alert. Pillow and first aid kit in hand he stepped inside. Wesley was waiting for him up stairs, back stiff with indignant, unspoken anger. He'd said nothing in front of Faith but Angel could tell Wesley was upset Angel had asked Faith to stay. Whether it was because he was afraid Faith would take his place in Angel's bed or because of the beating he had received Angel wasn't sure. Probably both.  
  
Angel stepped off the elevator to find Wesley exactly where he'd left him. Back straight and eyes forward, he had been through hell and the only thing that was keeping him this way was pure, unadulterated anger. It was most likely the only thing that was keeping him conscious.   
  
His face was so covered in bruises it was difficult to read where his thoughts were. Angel put down the pillow and sat next to Wesley on the couch. He opened the first aid kit.  
  
"I brought this for you."  
  
Wesley's jaw tightened. "I'm surprised you even bothered. Shouldn't you give it to Faith? Or are you afraid she'd use the gauze to strangle you?"  
  
"You can't strangle someone who doesn't need to take a breath." Angel duly reminded him.  
  
Wesley gave a silent laugh. "Not to worry, a Slayer is trained to be resourceful. She'll figure out some other way to kill you, I'm sure."  
  
"What would you have me do? Should I turn her in? She's not exactly willing, I don't think regular handcuffs would hold her. Even if she couldn't break them she'd kill someone trying to get out."  
  
Wesley sighed. He was in quite a bit of pain, more than he'd like to admit to Angel. They had been intimate more than a handful of times but he still could not be comfortable in his presence. There was still a boundary between them that hadn't come down. A sense of not-quite-rightness that neither of them could figure out. It hurt Wesley to know this but he wasn't ready to take it down tonight. Tonight he was grateful for it. Grateful that Angel couldn't call upon their closeness to calm him down. For all their physical intimacy there was no open avowal of their feelings. It was something Wesley would never bring up. Mostly because he knew his feelings for Angel were stronger than Angel's feeling for him. It was an unspoken embarrassment between them. For Wesley because he let himself feel so much for a man that did not reciprocate (and a little because he felt he had coerced Angel into sleeping with him), and for Angel because he stayed with someone he knew he could never love.  
  
When Wesley didn't argue further Angel looked at him fully. His eyes were tired and full of pain. Angel hurt for him. He didn't like to see his lover in such pain. Lover. That was difficult to admit. He wasn't sure why but it was. Sometimes when he was all alone he would open his mouth to whisper the words, "my lover" but he couldn't. Not even a whisper. As if saying it aloud would snap the tenuous thread that had turned his fantasy into reality. Wesley wanted Faith gone. Angel couldn't do that. What he was irritated to admit was that his first instinct was to turn Faith in and forget about her, spend the rest of the night nursing Wesley's wounds, keeping him as comfortable as he could.   
  
Angel took a wash cloth and wet it with water from the cooler. He helped Wesley shrug out of what was left of his shirt and began to clean what the rain had failed to wash away. The dried blood from his chest, the sweat and grime from his neck, and the dried tears from his face. He went slowly and gently, cleaning each wound with Hydrogen Peroxide and covering them with a bandage. Faith had done quite a number in him but Wesley kept silent no matter how rough Angel's fingers were.  
  
His only admissions of pain were the sharp intakes of breath that would escape his lips occasionally. With each of these Angel would stop and wait a few beats before continuing. Angel said nothing. He knew how much even those admissions cost Wesley's pride.  
  
When it was finally over Angel helped Wesley into a fresh shirt he had brought up from his closet. I was a size or so too large and though it fit well enough in the shoulders it was loose enough everywhere else and gave Wesley an even more beaten down look.  
  
Neither of them had spoken a word since Angel had begun tending to Wesley's wounds. Angel didn't mind silence, in fact he preferred it; this however, was uncomfortable.   
  
"Are there any I missed?" asked Angel, not looking down at the large red stain on the thigh of Wesley's pants.  
  
"None that you'll get to tonight." Or any other night, he thought bitterly.  
  
Angel sat back, irritated. Wesley was purposely being difficult. "Let's get real for a second. You're not angry because I won't turn Faith in, you're angry because you think I'm choosing her over you."  
  
Wesley looked at him in hurt confusion. "First of all don't flatter yourself. She's dangerous and as far as I'm concerned isn't worth our time. And second- isn't that what you're doing? I don't mean to wax nostalgic on you but remember that time she nearly killed me? And it wasn't some sense of right and wrong that stopped her, it was you tossing her out of a window. She brutally tortures me and you invite her over to spend the night. How can I not be hurt by what you're doing?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "You have to-"  
  
Wesley shook his head. "I don't have to anything." He stood. "You're making a decision I truly don't want you to make. It's something to consider. Before you draw a line in the sand you need to realize I won't always cross over it. You need to think about whether or not you're OK with that." Wesley stood and slowly limped toward the door.  
  
Angel stood. "It's dangerous out at night and you're in no condition to ride your bike. Stay the night here."  
  
Wesley didn't turn around. "Why don't you walk me home?"  
  
Angel said nothing. It was a rhetorical question.  
  
"Right," said Wesley, answering his own question. "You wouldn't want Faith to run away. I can't stay here tonight. I'm in no condition to have sex and I really don't think I could take knowing you're not thinking of me. Usually I can. Tonight I'm just too tired to delude myself into thinking it's alright."  
  
"Wesley-" began Angel.  
  
Wesley shook his head. "Don't bother, Angel. We have nothing to say to each other in this conversation until you decide whether or not you want to draw that line again." Wesley's shoulders slumped slightly. "I'm asking you not to do it. I've crossed every line you've drawn and not looked back. This time I see you about to do it again and I can't- I can't - do it again."  
  
Wesley walked out the door. Angel stood there stunned. This was what Wesley thought of him? That all Wesley was to him was just a warm body to replace the cold hand, a mouth to replace the memory? He would have to show Wesley how wrong he was. But not tonight. Not tomorrow, and probably not for a while.  
  
***   
  
Wesley hesitated at the door to the office. He wasn't used to giving ultimatums but he was confident that he'd made his point. It was all up to Angel now.  
  
He walked inside and over to Cordelia, her black eye was a slap in the face for him. It was bad enough Faith was cruel to him but it some how hurt him more that she had been cruel to his friends as well. Especially Cordelia who, now that she was besieged with strange visions, had enough to worry about.   
  
"Bitch." He said bitterly. She glared at him and he realized how it seemed. "Not you, obviously." He let out a sigh. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that I allowed this to happen."  
  
She joined his sigh. "I believe it was Faith who allowed her elbow to collide with my face. Not your fault."  
  
He made a face. "At least all you got was the elbow."  
  
"Well, if it's any consolation it really does look like you were- tortured by a much larger woman."  
  
Wesley couldn't help but smile. She was trying to make him feel better. Mistakenly thinking she was boosting his manhood. In truth, it hadn't even occurred to him to feel badly that Faith had beaten him. She was a slayer after all. He tried to make his next question casual. "She's still here I assume."  
  
"He gave her his bed."  
  
Inside Wesley was disappointed. He knew Angel would choose Faith but he couldn't help deluding himself. He would just have to hold on to the hope that Angel hadn't included himself in the bed offer.  
  
Angel walked in and looked at Wesley in surprise.  
  
"Angel." Wesley acknowledged, trying to think of a reason to leave as casually as possible, so as not to alert Cordelia.   
  
"I didn't expect to see you in today. How are you feeling?"  
  
Wesley didn't know how to answer that. It was loaded with meaning. "As well as can be expected." He said stonily.  
  
"Good." He shook himself mentally. "Good." Turning to Cordelia, "Donuts?"  
  
Wesley knew what they were for- Angel had certainly not developed a vice for pastries. "Developed a sweet fang, have you?"  
  
"You got jelly?" asked Angel, ignoring Wesley for the moment.  
  
"Whole selection."   
  
Wesley couldn't help but drive his instincts home. "Won't she find it difficult- enjoying delicious, jelly-filled doughnuts if she is - one assumes - bound and gagged?"  
  
Angel had made his decision and was determined to stick to it. "Wesley, - we went through all this last night."   
  
Wesley nodded stiffly. "Yes, you were right. The police would be ill equipped to hold a Slayer against her will. I understand why you chose not to turn her over to them. - I do not, however, understand why the woman who brutally tortured me last night - this morning gets pastries!" He let more emotion show than he had meant to but didn't dare allow the regret to register on his face.  
  
"I don't really have anything else downstairs. - What do you want to do, Wesley? Let her starve?"   
  
"Certainly not. There are far more humane ways to deal with a rabid animal." Wesley said as cutting as he could.  
  
"She's not an animal."  
  
"No?"  
  
Angel was only half grateful for the shelter of double entendre and mixed meanings. There was a part of him that just wished they could drop the pretence and discuss what was really bothering Wesley. But they couldn't in front of Cordelia. "She's a person. In case you've forgotten - we're not in the business of giving up on people."   
  
Wesley was incensed. "Don't you dare take the moral high ground with me after what she did. I believe in helping people. I do *not* believe in coddling murderers!"   
  
"It wasn't too long ago that you were the one making the case for her rehabilitation."   
  
That was before she came between you and I, before she tried to kill me slowly. Wesley thought bitterly. "It wasn't too long ago I had full feeling in my right arm!"   
  
"She wants to change."   
  
Who cares? I want you. We don't always get what we want. "There is evil in that girl, Angel. It doesn't matter what she wants, or says she wants - you set her free - she'll kill again."   
  
Angel remained silent until Wesley couldn't stand it any more. With a sigh he picked up his jacket and left the office.  
  
Angel looked at Cordelia. "He'll come around." But there was no conviction in his voice.  
  
***   
Wesley spent the rest of the day in his flat, watching TV and generally feeling sorry for himself. After all they had shared Angel was ready to throw it all out the window for someone who would kill him if given half a chance.   
  
Angel says he sees good in Faith. If he's so damn intuitive why doesn't he see what I feel for him? Wesley paced stiffly around until he couldn't take it anymore. "I need a drink," he muttered and headed out the door.  
  
END  



End file.
